Suite Dreams

A few friends noticed the photographs of the amazing, wrap-around hotel suite we stayed in on our recent trip to New York City. I haven't had the opportunity to explain the bad luck/good luck combination that brought us to those lavish-for-us accommodations.

I will not--will not!--pay New York City hotel prices. Instead, I save up member reward points with a couple of international hotel chains until I have enough for a night in Manhattan. This year followed the routine and I booked a double room at a very well-located hotel. (Since the hotel was actually fabulous, I'm not going to mention it by name. You'll soon know why.) After arriving from D.C., we checked in and went straight to our assigned room. We dropped the luggage on the floor and sank into chairs while my husband walked around to inspect the room, as is his obsessive habit.

"Karla!" He called from the bathroom," There is diarrhea on the toilet!"

I literally sprang to my feet, "Oh, come on! Not really?"

I walked into the bathroom area gingerly, truly not wanting to be a witness at this point.

I looked around, "Where?"

"There!" My husband pointed to the area, crevice really, between the toilet seat and the back of the toilet.

"Okay," I walked to the phone, "I'm calling the front desk. They'll hopefully change our room."

So, I called and politely explained the situation. The reaction was as if I'd told them the room was splattered with blood. They asked us to come to the front desk and, as I'd expected, be given keys to a different room.

As the elevator doors opened into the lobby, a man who looked uncannily like Nathan Lane was pacing and stopped as we stepped out.

"Excuse me, but are you the Bryants?

"Yes."

He actually was in a sweat. "I'm Mr.__________, the Housekeeping Manager, and I cannot express our complete regret for what you've just gone through. There is absolutely no excuse for such a thing to have happened and I will do everything that is within my power to make things right for you."

I really felt quite sorry for him.

"We will give you a suite on the 37th floor for your stay. I think you'll like it. Let me personally bring you to the suite."

Which he insisted on doing. Yeah, the suite was beautiful with views of the Hudson River, Times Square, and Central Park. Magnificent. We thanked him and he went back to the lobby with us.

"Now," he said, turning to us,"I would also like to pay for lunch for you and your family in appreciation of your being so understanding about this awful situation."

I hesitated, glanced at my husband, then turned back to the Housekeeping Manager. "No, really, it wasn't that much diarrhea. We certainly appreciate the suite, but lunch would just be too much."

He looked genuinely startled, but a little pleased at the same time. "Really, I want to make sure..."

"No, it's really okay." I smiled. "We're good."

When we came back that night and entered the suite, we just stared at the brilliant evening views of the city. It was a perfect example of how a little bad luck can turn into great good fortune. Still, not sure we need an exact repeat.